


from flesh removed, our chalk footfalls

by 1248



Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life
Genre: Crossover, Gen, i know this is very niche but i wrote it for ME, over the garden wall au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27406474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1248/pseuds/1248
Summary: Lost. It had just occurred to him that he was lost.For some reason, the thought was disproportionately loud in his head.Of course he was lost, he told himself, trying to get a grip. He was in the middle of a strange place, with no idea how he got there. But the thought still made him feel cold, inside and out.-Gordon wakes up and finds himself in a purgatory of an entirely different genre. Hilarity ensues (for a select few individuals, Gordon not included).
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	from flesh removed, our chalk footfalls

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone. thank you for clicking. 
> 
> benrey doesn't show up in this chapter but this au was created to clown on him and him specifically. im like, partyway through his introduction. im not gonna lie, this may not get get finished. but please enjoy what little nonsense i brought to you today.

The woods were dark, cold, and kinda wet. 

Gordon didn’t like the woods. He wasn’t dressed for the woods. He was wearing his good work shoes and khakis. His shoes had already lost their shine, and he could almost imagine he already felt mud seeping in through the seams. And the tree branches had made a mess of his work pants, getting them damp and leaving streaks of- moss? Gordon didn’t know much about plants.

Some green material, organic in nature. That’s what was staining his pants. And the less that was said about the state of his white overshirt, the better.

He should have worn hiking boots or something. 

As soon as the thought passed through his head, he stopped dead in his tracks as he realised he hadn’t planned his trek through the forest one bit. In fact, he couldn’t even remember _how_ he got into these woods.

“How the fuck…?” he muttered to himself, looking around his immediate surroundings. There was nothing more informative than a bunch of tree trunks and bushes to be seen. 

The last thing he could remember was vague, dreamlike. He had been running late to work...? 

And then he was suddenly here. Here, amongst the dense foliage of… what kinds of trees _were_ these? In fact, what the fuck was he doing in this biome? He lived in New Mexico. 

“I live in the fucking _desert_ ,” he yelped out loud, before he could stop himself, clapping a hand over his mouth.

The forest remained ominously, unchangingly silent. In fact, he almost got the sense that it disapproved of his outburst… 

No.

Gordon shook his head. He needed to get a grip. He wiped his hands anxiously against his damp pants, which did nothing to dry his sweaty palms. He inhaled, deeply, trying to get his bearings. The air was cold and tasted like wet earth and rotting leaves. It did nothing to quell his disorientation. 

Maybe… maybe he just needed to head towards the nearest sign of civilization. He craned his neck, trying to look past the trees. Looking for a cell tower, or a phone line, or… even _smoke_ from a campfire or something would be welcome, at this point.

There was only a small patch of grey, clouded-over sky visible. The trees seemed to huddle around him, choking out even the tiny bit of light that provided. Maybe he could climb a tree? He shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to risk falling out and then being lost _and_ with a busted ankle to boot. 

Lost. It had just occurred to him that he was lost. 

For some reason, the thought was disproportionately loud in his head.

Of course he was lost, he told himself, trying to get a grip. He was in the middle of a strange place, with no idea how he got there. But the thought still made him feel cold, inside and out.

Gordon shivered, suddenly. Oh. No, that was probably just a literal chill that he had from wearing a _long sleeved shirt_ during what looked to be early fall in wherever the fuck he was. Temperate zone. Whatever. 

“C’mon, Gordon. Not like this.”

He picked a direction and started walking in it, resolutely. Civilization or not, standing stock still would not get him any closer to being rescued from whatever bizarre fever dream he was trapped in. 

He tried to angle himself vaguely southward. He had some vague idea that moss grew on the north side of trees. Or was that fungi? 

Anyway, it seemed to him that it would be good to pick a direction and stick to it, and he was pretty much going off of the sole, slightly pathetic notion that south at least brought him closer to home. Provided he actually _was_ in the northern US. Hopefully this wasn’t Canada. Or Norway.

He shook his head. No, it wasn’t worth thinking about. He just had to keep walking until… until something happened.

To his astonishment, mere seconds after telling himself that, something _did_ happen.

The forest opened up into a little clearing. A clearing in which sat two buildings, one directly adjacent to a small but deep-looking stream. 

One of the buildings was a modest wood cabin, and the other seemed to be some kind of water mill. They both looked relatively well maintained, the water wheel turning smoothly in the rushing water and the cabin with freshly painted shutters on its windows and cheery curtains blocking out most of the warm light from within…

“Oh,” said Gordon out loud, dumbly. People.

Part of him wanted to sprint to the cabin and start slamming his fist against the door so he could get a phone and get _out_ of here as soon as humanly possible. Another part of him reminded him in a cautious undertone that usually, if someone lives in the middle of the fucking woods without even a car to get around with, there was probably a reason that they want to be so isolated from other people. 

But then again, maybe they were just some kind of antisocial technophobe that really loved, uh, making their own flour. That was something that could be made at a mill, right?

He shook off his concerns and strode towards the door. He could deal with weird, so long as they could either let him use a phone or point him in the direction of someone with a phone.

Gordon reached the door, and just as he was pulling his fist back to knock on it, he noticed it was very slightly ajar.

What? Who the hell leaves their door open in the middle of…what was probably early fall? Or more importantly, who leaves their door open when they live in the middle of the woods, where some stranger like Gordon could just wander inside?

Actually, that part kind of made sense. People probably didn’t come by much.

Gordon pushed open the door a little, bracing himself for someone to come rushing at him with an axe or similarly improvised home defense weapon. 

Nothing. Well, nothing except a wave of very nice warm air. 

He pushed the door open further to see the source of the warmth, a blazing fireplace. Well, someone definitely lived here, if anyone was bothering to make a fire. The room that housed the fireplace was completely empty, save for a few bookshelves, a couple of empty chairs and a chest. A set of stairs led up to the upper floor of the cabin, but no light came from upstairs.

He took one hesitant step inside, and then another when the house continued to seem completely unoccupied.

Gordon didn’t like to just invite himself in like this, but it really was necessary. He needed to get home. And, lower on his list of priorities but also very urgent, he needed to get warmed up.

He has just about eased himself into a seat placed directly in front of the fireplace when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and barely suppressed a shriek when he saw an enormous dog standing at the foot of the stairwell.

How the hell had it gotten there without making a sound? 

The dog looked at him, and he looked right back. He knew that you weren’t really supposed to look dogs in the eye, especially strange ones, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off it.

The dog cocked its head at him. There was an uncanny intelligence in its gaze. It was a golden dog with long, flowing fur, and it really was unnaturally huge. Gordon was not a small man, and just standing up, the dog was almost eye-level with his chest.

After a prolonged pause, the dog huffed out a breath, and padded forwards. Gordon took an involuntary few steps backwards, but it ignored him. 

It skirted the edge of the room until it reached a large cushion in the corner (how on earth had he not seen that earlier?). And then it stepped delicately onto the cushion, and after a moment of fussing with the way it was positioned, settled down into a comfortable slumber.

Despite this indifferent display, Gordon couldn’t help but notice that its ears were still pricked. It was still listening to him.

He eased one step towards the chair he had previously picked out. The dog didn’t move. He took another step. Nothing. He very slowly sat himself down in the chair. Nada.

He warmed his palms near the fire, keeping one eye on the dog bed at all times. Christ. His heart was still racing. That probably explained why the door was cracked. The dog had to be able to get out in case it needed to relieve itself. And no one with any sense would try to break in with a guard dog that size to protect the household.

Well, except him. But he wasn’t here to take anything. Maybe the dog sensed that? No, that was stupid. Even smart dogs don’t know the difference between a wannabe home invader and a lost stranger. 

Right?

The dog shifted slightly, just enough to open one dark eye and look over at him. He straightened in his seat, and the dog huffed another sigh and closed its eye again. 

Nope, this was a weird dog and it was probably definitely smart enough to understand him. If it could be the size of a small horse, it could read his intentions.

...Maybe he could- No, that was stupid. Stupid idea.

Or, well. It was worth a shot.

Some guide dogs knew a lot of different words. Maybe this dog knew ‘phone’?

He cleared his throat. He cleared it again, unnecessarily.

The dog didn’t stir.

“Um… hello?” he tried in the dog’s direction, sounding about as embarrassed and stupid as he felt.

To his surprise, the dog’s head rose, and it again looked at him with that same unnatural intelligence. It was more than a little alarming.

“Yeah, um. Hi. I was wondering…” God, he sounded so fucking stupid. Just spit it out! 

“Okay, do you have a phone I can use?”

The dog looked away and then back at him. It barked hoarsely, and to his utter astonishment, it spat out some kind of… 

What the hell was _that_?

It looked like a bubble, if bubbles could be opaque. And glow. It was hot pink. 

What the fuck? What the fuck???

As Gordon stared at it with no-doubt bulging, incredulous eyes, it slowly faded out of sight.

“What the fuck?” Gordon hissed. The dog looked at him quizzically, and then abruptly bolted to its feet, its plumed tail starting to wag furiously.

Gordon was about to ask the dog what it was so excited about when he realised it was looking towards the front door. His stomach dropped down to his toes, just in time to hear the front door swing shut, and a wavering but firm voice ask,

“Uh, who are you?”

Gordon leapt to his feet so fast the chair went flying backwards, spinning to face the door.

There stood a man, maybe in his late thirties or early forties. He had short, dark hair and was dressed warmly, wearing a long fawn-colored coat that fell almost to his knees. He was maybe a couple inches taller than Gordon but was significantly slighter. 

He had fixed Gordon with a flummoxed, disapproving look, and had almost managed to settle his hands on his hips when the dog, almost certainly _his_ dog bowled into him, wiggling with delight, and he was forced to use his hands to hold it back.

"Sunkist! S-stop!" he said sharply, and the dog subsided instantly, planting its butt on the floor and instead leaning intensely into its owner's side.

Gordon blinked. W- Like the soda? He stifled an inappropriate and slightly hysterical laugh. 

The man was looking at him again. With about the appropriate amount of disapproval with which to regard a stranger who was suddenly in your home. Gordon resisted the urge to flee up the stairs and try to crawl out a window. This dude had pretty long legs; odds were he was faster than him.

"Why- who are you?" he asked again, frowning slightly. "Should I know you?"

Gordon frowned. Why would he- oh, the dog let him in. Could he work that angle at all?

"Yes, well, I'm a mailm-" No, abort, abort, he was a terrible liar, this was so dumb. "I mean. Uh, no. I was just…" 

God, honesty was probably best here.

"I somehow got lost in these woods. I have no idea where I am or what I'm doing here. Could I… could I please borrow a phone to call someone?"

The man stared at him, his frown growing deeper. Gordon fidgeted in place. Maybe he should- explain some more.

"I promise I'm not like… high or something. I don't, I'd get fired if I did any drugs, haha…" He laughed weakly but the guy just kept watching him. He kept on talking.

"I promise I didn't- I mean, I wasn't gonna rob you. I just, it's cold and your door was open, so…" 

He trailed off, unwilling to say that he just decided to deal with the consequences of walking into a stranger's home, even if it was pretty much the truth.

"You- yeah, you aren't really wearing much." The guy eventually supplied, giving him a belated once-over. "You don't have a coat?"

"No, like I said, I-" Gordon caught himself before he re-explained everything and sighed. That's not what he's here for.

"So, do you have a phone I can use?"

The guy took way too long to answer that one, still with a vaguely bewildered set to his eyebrows.

"...No."

He couldn't believe it. No, the guy must be lying or something. 

"C'mon, man, you have a phone. Who doesn't have a phone."

The guy just shook his head. The confusion on his face hadn't died down any. In fact, it had intensified.

"No? Hey, come on… This isn't funny. Aren't you required to have one, in case of emergencies or something?"

Another headshake. Gordon was starting to feel kinda alarmed. No, actually, he was freaking enough that his hands were shaking. What was going on? Was he being punked?

"Okay, fine, do you know anyone with a phone? Can you take me to them? Please?"

"I'm sorry," the guy said, in lieu of an answer. And he sure sounded like he meant it, looking at him with a mix of pity and concern. 

"You can't?" Gordon asked anyway, hoping that just maybe-

"No. Sorry."

"W-why not?" he asked, feeling as if he was standing back outside in the chill, and the wind had started to blow. Cold was prickling all over his arms and back.

"What's your name?" the guy replied instead of answering him. 

"Gordon Freeman," Gordon managed to say.

"Oh. I'm Tommy." Tommy didn't stick his hand out for a handshake and neither did Gordon.

"Well, G- Mister Freeman, I'm real sorry to be the bring- bearer of bad news, but I don't know what you're talking about at all. And- um, the thing is… no one gets lost out here. Or well, uh, people… do, but they usually know where they're headed at least."

"South," Gordon said automatically, numbly. "I'm going south."

Tommy tilted his head, as if Gordon was a puzzle that might make sense at the right angle. "Just south? No like… uh, place name or person or something? Do you have- are you trying to do something?"

"I just want to go home," Gordon said, starting to recover from the shock of finding out his one lifeline didn't actually _have_ a lifeline for him to use.

It was hard to say, but it looked like Tommy brightened, very slightly. The dog by his side (Sunkist? Or maybe it was actually named Sunkissed) perked right up and gave him a silly dog grin, tongue lolling.

"Well, we can help you with that, Mister Freeman!"

"We?" Gordon asked, flicking a speculative look at the dog. The dog looked right back. 

"Yeah, uh… Sunkist, can you find my old coat?" 

Before Gordon could say anything, the dog had trotted right off as if it understood perfectly. Maybe it did. From upstairs there came the muffled sound of a closet being rifled through and he decided not to think on it any further.

“You just need to ca- to keep going! I’m just gonna give you what to need to… keep on going. Like, uh… a pal giving you a friendly push!”

“Uh, I live in New Mexico, it won’t exactly be a hike away-” Gordon tried to say, feeling as if the other man maybe didn’t understand the scale of the problem.

“I’m sure you’ll find your way, Mister Freeman!” Tommy said brightly, giving him an encouraging half-smile. The dog re-entered the room with a heavy winter coat draped over its back. It walked right up to Gordon, wagging its tail and looking at him entreatingly.

He took the coat, but clutched it in one hand instead of putting it on, feeling very much out of his depth.

“You can’t like… help me get to somewhere where I can call for help?” Did Tommy really want him to just wander around in the forest on his own?

“I can’t exactly go with you on… I live here, Mister Freeman. Sunkist, well, she needs me.” 

Gordon found himself at a momentary loss for words, and Tommy glanced critically over his work shoes. “Some boots, I think,” he told the dog, which immediately darted back upstairs.

“You’re- you’re just going to give me your boots?” Gordon managed, feeling steamrolled and ungrateful all at once.

Tommy nodded once, and then turned away, opening a chest pushed against one wall and pulling out various items. 

“So you can’t get help for me, but you’re perfectly comfortable giving me a winter coat, a pair of boots, and, uh, something from that chest too? For some reason?”

“It’s, well, kinda my job,” Tommy offered, still faced away from him. “I’m- I have other obligations, too… but I like to help, when I can. And besides, you might run into me again later on and then, if you want, you have- I can have my coat back. If you don’t need it, anymore.”

Maybe Tommy was a highly eccentric park ranger? That lived in the woods and didn’t actually directly help lost hikers? No, probably not. 

No, Tommy was someone so disconnected from the rest of the world that he didn’t know _one_ person with a working phone, himself included. So disconnected that he barely seemed to know what Gordon was talking about. 

Just taking the free winter clothes and going on his merry way was seeming like a pretty good idea, actually. Provided Tommy wasn’t actually planning on, like, hunting him for sport.

Christ, what if he _did_ want to hunt Gordon for sport and that’s what he meant about taking the coat back when he ‘didn’t need it anymore’?

He looked at Tommy where he was rummaging inside the trunk. He didn’t _seem_ like a crazy ax murderer. Gordon had never met any, but he kind of imagined them less friendly and helpful. Especially to strangers that wandered inside their homes.

“ _There_ it is!” 

Gordon barely refrained from jumping, and looked to where Tommy was triumphantly holding up… what was that, a crumpled up piece of paper? He got to his feet and strode over to Gordon, eyes sparkling, and stuck it right under his nose.

“Uh, can you read this?”

Gordon squinted at it obligingly. For all that it was being held way too close to his face, it looked like a couple of blurred lines, not any kind of text. He took off his glasses, and attempted to polish them on a clean section of his shirt.

Even with lenses that were just slightly smeary instead of covered with water, it was pretty much impossible to puzzle out. It looked like text that someone had shrunk down and then resized incorrectly.

“What does it say? The scroll?” 

Gordon couldn’t help a surprised little laugh at that. “Tommy, no, this isn’t a scroll, it’s like… some piece of badly compressed text that someone tried to print out. No one could read it.”

“Oh, okay!” Was all Tommy had to say to that, tucking the paper right back in his trunk and then tossing a handful of items into a canvas bag and sliding it across the floor to Gordon. “Here you go!”

Gordon peeked dubiously inside. There was a small metal tin, a stubby little candle, an old-fashioned type matchbox and a few other objects he could not immediately identify. He dropped the coat he had been holding to feel around inside the bag and to his alarm, he felt the cool blade of a knife against his fingers.

He pulled back to look, and, yeah, tucked into a side pocket on the interior of the bag, that was _definitely_ a knife. Short, sharp, and serrated on one side. He looked up and made immediate eye contact with Tommy, who had been watching him with every appearance of mild interest.

“Why do I need a fucking _knife_?” 

“Sorry, I lost the sheath,” was all Tommy said.

He looked back down and quickly shut the bag. Yeah, no, he wanted to leave _now_.

“Well, thanks so much for all the stuff-” he started to say, when he was interrupted by a sharp bark. Oh, there was Sunkist, and there at her feet were a pair of boots. They were made of dark brown leather, lacking buckles or laces.

He looked back up at Tommy, who gestured encouragingly. The boots actually did look to be about his size, which was… creepy, even if it was almost certainly a coincidence. Hopefully. After fighting with his wet shoelaces for a few moments, he tried them on and they fit perfectly.

Okay, no, you know what? Nah. Gordon was leaving right away.

“Hey, look at that! They fit,” said Tommy cheerily, and Gordon faked a smile in his direction, throwing his old work shoes in the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. The dog, seemingly all out of things to fetch for him, had curled back up on her bed. All he had to do was get out the door and he was home free. 

He started talking, and edging towards the front door as he spoke. 

“So, thanks so much for everything, but I should probably be going, haha! I mean, I don’t want to start burning the midnight oil-” fuck, what was he even saying, “I mean, I don’t want to be walking around in the dark, ha. Not safe, or something.”  
  


Tommy’s smile dimmed a few watts at the mention of midnight, and he cast an anxious look out the window.

“I don’t know, Mister Freeman. I guess we could have you- let you sleep here for the night if you’re worried? There is kinda an... a thing you should-”

“Nope! That’s okay,” Gordon interrupted, willing himself to think of something convincing. “Actually, I, uh, kinda want to get going. I have some stuff I need to get to, some people who will be missing me…” Wait, did he? He felt like he was forgetting something. Was there something special happening at work today?

Tommy nodded obligingly, but there was still something like worry on his face.

“Okay. I might see you again, anyway, like I said. You know, uh...”

Gordon nodded, and put his hand on the doorknob. He didn’t really want to hear any more.

“Yeah, well, see you then! Bye, thanks!”

And then, more quickly that he meant to, he stepped outside and slammed the door after him. 

Okay.

He started to speed-walk away from the house, basically going as fast as he could without running. It was probably fine. The dude wasn’t going to chase him or something. He was being ridiculous.

Gordon let himself slow down a little when the door didn’t immediately open behind him, and looked back at the house. 

And, oh god. That was an axe next to the door. An axe that sure as hell hadn’t been there before. A big ax, the kind that killers in slasher flicks used to chop people up like they were prime cuts of meat.

He broke into a run. Fuck common sense, he wasn’t going to _walk_ away from the creepy murder cabin! It was just when he hit the edge of the clearing that two things happened.

One, light shone out into the clearing as the door opened, and he heard Tommy call out his name, which only made him run faster.

Two, as branches whipped against him and dripped freezing cold water right through his shirt and onto his skin, he realized he had forgotten to grab the coat and viciously, but silently, cussed himself out.


End file.
